


Daylight Beauty

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Infidelity, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Quickies, Secret Relationship, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 23:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: She has only caught fleeting glances of Margaery today, their future queen being too busy with official matters, but every tiny glimpse of her sweet half-smile or the sunlight glinting on her pale shoulders has only pushed Sansa closer to the brink of madness.She does not know what is wrong with her: she knows she has no good reason to be craving Margaery's attentions so much today of all days, but then again, she has grown to crave it more days than not now.





	Daylight Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Kink generator gave urgency for sex + vaginal penetration with foreign objects.

This is terrible.

Margaery, she is a beautiful, brilliant, kind woman, but she has yet to express any remorse for the wicked things she has unleashed within Sansa. On the contrary, she seems alarmingly proud of the fact. Sansa bites her lip, standing in the corridors of the Red Keep, and as subtly as she can beneath her gown, she squeezes her thighs together. Her smallclothes already feel wet and slick, and she blushes. She has only caught fleeting glances of Margaery today, their future queen being too busy with official matters, but every tiny glimpse of her sweet half-smile or the sunlight glinting on her pale shoulders has only pushed Sansa closer to the brink of madness.

She does not know what is wrong with her: she knows she has no good reason to be craving Margaery's attentions so much today of all days, but then again, she has grown to crave it more days than not now. Eventually she manages to find the woman, finally given respite from her duties and now merrily chatting to her ladies in waiting. Margaery turns her head and gives Sansa broad grin when she spots her. “Lady Sansa!” she cries out, like she's never been happier to see anyone in her life. “Come join us.”

The rest of them give Sansa a wary look as she slinks into their circle. They are rather hesitant to get too involved with the traitor's daughter, but Margaery won't stand to see her left out. As subtly as she can, she threads her arm through Margaery's, and hopes her voice doesn't waver when she speaks. “Actually, I was hoping I might speak to you in private?” she whispers in Margaery's ear.

Margaery pauses, and then her grin widens. She gets that wicked look in her eye she does sometimes, and Sansa knows the lady knows exactly what she means. She hopes she does not shiver too visibly. “Sorry, friends,” says Margaery, unlacing their arms so she can kiss her cousins goodbye. “I'll see you in a moment.”

The girls run along, and Sansa desperately wants to run too. She wants to run to her room and throw herself on the bed. But as Margaery takes her arm once more, Sansa knows they have to be subtle; she suspects Margaery's ladies are already jealous of their closeness, and does not want anyone to suspect anything. The walk, slow and measured like they're going nowhere in particular, is torturous, but Margaery's brilliant smile and the scent of her rose-perfumed skin keep Sansa going.

It is Margaery's chambers they end up in, and barely a second after the door is closed Sansa gasps as she finds herself pinned against it, Margaery's lips harshly claiming her own. She moans as their bodies slide together, long tangling skirts getting in the way of her attempts to push her aching centre against the other girl's through. Margaery has to get up on her toes to do this; Sansa is much taller, and yet she feels such a delicate maid pinned against the oak like this. It's not a bad feeling.

Margaery only breaks the kiss once Sansa is very nearly out of breath, and leaves her red and panting while the other girl looks her over shamelessly. “Sweet girl,” Margaery croons, and Sansa shudders, the endearment going straight through her. “You seem very desperate today.”

Sansa whimpers as Margaery reaches for the hem of her dress, grasping the other girl's shoulders and squeezing. “Please,” she chokes out, too needy and embarrassed to be more eloquent.

“Of course,” Margaery replies with an indulgent grin, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of Sansa's next before holding her skirt and petticoat above her waist, running a finger along the slit through Sansa's soaked underthings. She bites her lip to smother a whine as Margaery starts to touch her properly. “Poor thing, you're so wet,” Margaery says, leaning up again to peck Sansa's lips once more. “I should have come to see you earlier, I do apologise. I was rather busy.”

“That's alright,” Sansa gasps, rocking as best she can toward Margaery's hand, feeling a wanton, needy, half-crazed thing. “Just – oh please, Margaery–”

“I know sweetling, I know.” And somehow, one-handed Margaery manages to unlace her smallthings, letting them fall to the ground with a  _floof_ , and Sansa bites her lip as she looks down, seeing herself so exposed, so vulnerable. Margaery rounds on her quickly, a finger pushing through the folds of her nethers, and Sansa moans desperately, her head falling back against the door. “Shh,” Margaery reminds her, and Sansa stops. “We can't let anyone hear.” A spark of terror going up her spine, Sansa nods and purses her lips together to keep silent as Margaery's finger sinks inside her.

It's not easy, and she smothers noises against Margaery's bare shoulder after she wraps her arms around the other girl's back and clings. Margaery's spare hand strokes her hair softly. “Such a lovely girl,” she whispers, voice as sweet as a song. “Such a pretty little cunny, so neat and those pretty red curls... such pretty red hair.”

Sansa whines into Margaery's own hair as she rocks down toward the finger moving hard and fast against her walls, because there's no time to wait. “More, please,” she whispers, wet, trembling and eager, needing more of this woman, this brilliant, gorgeous, addicting woman.

Margaery pulls back slightly, leaving Sansa to whimper in disappointment, before giving her a small smirk. “One second, dearest,” she says, and when her finger pulls away Sansa sees her lean over and pick something up off the desk she did not realise was by the door. It's a candle, half-melted from the night before but Margaery points the neater end to her, and raises her eyebrows.

Sansa's jaw drops open a little shock. It seems so dirty, to misuse such a common object so, and Margaery has never before taken her with anything but her own mouth and fingers. At any other moment, she would likely protest, but now... oh she is so needy, so desperate, she would let Margaery do anything to her. She nods and blushes deeper, hiking her skirt higher above her waist, while Margaery grins again and kisses her cheek.

With Sansa's permission, Margaery returns to her previous position, sliding the candle up and down along Sansa's slit. She shivers as she feels the wax, cold and strange, pressed against her most sensitive parts. And then Margaery starts to feed it into her, and she bites her lip so hard it almost bleeds.

Margaery quickly kisses her, burying any noise she might make, and Sansa groans into her mouth as she feels the candle stretching her open. It's wider than the finger, of course, and she squirms as she adjusts. But she is so wet that it does not take much before she feels ready, when she can feel herself pulsing around it and rocks back onto it. Margaery, her hand loosely gripping the base, smiles against her lips.

She starts to slide it out again, before pushing it in deep and making Sansa give a choked cry. There's no time to be slow, and moreover, she doesn't  _want_  to; she wants Margaery to fuck her with this thing, and quickly.  _Gods, what's happened to me,_  she wonders, but then Margaery starts thrusting the candle in and out at pace and there's no room to think anymore.

Sansa tangles her fingers through her Margaery's hair and tugs desperately, their mouths breaking apart as Margaery pants slightly into Sansa's neck instead. Sansa spreads her legs wider, as best she can without falling, and rocks toward Margaery's hand. With the other hand, her fingers find the bodice of Sansa's gown, undoing it until the dress falls away and only the thinnest silk shift keeps Sansa's breasts from being bared. She leans down and takes one nipple into her mouth.

Without thinking, Sansa lets out a moan, and then slaps a hand over her mouth to keep the noise back. She looks down and sees Margaery suckling at her, the silk rubbing against her erect nipples, somehow dirtier than if she was naked. She clenches hard around the candle as Margaery thrusts it deep in her, as Margaery's teeth graze her skin.

“My lovely girl,” Margaery tells her, leaning up a moment and kissing Sansa's collarbone. “So beautiful when you're so desperate for me, aren't you?” She leans back down and switches her mouth to Sansa's other nipple, making Sansa squirm and tremble more, hair tangled between her body and the door. “When we go to Highgarden, I promise you can scream as loud ad you like there. I want to hear you.”

Sansa whimpers, and then her peak hits her it one great rush, making her give strangled cries as she tightens around the candle. Margaery thrusts it in as deep as she can, coming back up to kiss Sansa through it, her fingers finding the silk wet with her slaver and tweaking Sansa's nipples, earning soft gasps and more shivers as Sansa comes down, the candle almost falling out of her before Margaery catches it.

Afterward, Margaery smiles at her, and Sansa smiles back, leaning her brow against the other girl's. “Was that all you wanted to speak about, Lady Sansa?” Margaery asks, a little teasing, and Sansa blushes.

“Yes, I-I think that's all.” Margaery grins and kisses her cheek again, before pulling away and wiping the candle clean brazenly on her dress, then reaching for a hairbrush. Sansa, finally letting her skirts drop back to the floor, turns her head and frowns in puzzlement. “Wait, do you not want me to–?” she blushes even deeper. She's still not very good at putting these sorts of things into words, but well, she feels she owes Margaery  _something._

Margaery gives her a sorry smile. “I want you to, a lot,” she says, her voice a fraction strained. “But alas, I agreed to eat lunch with the queen. I think I'm already late.” Sansa winces. She doesn't want to know what Cersei will think of that. Margaery sighs and comes back over, kissing her again. “You get some rest in my bed. I promise, I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Sansa nods and steps out of the way so Margaery can leave. Margaery looks over her shoulder and smiles before she goes. Once the door is closed, Sansa sighs, running her fingers through her mussed her before crawling beneath Margaery's sheets. Admittedly, there's not a lot to do now she's all alone in Margaery's room. But she can be patient.


End file.
